Saturday, May 28, 2005

TV Finales are Over, or, Why I Might Just Kill Myself

Being a self-professed TV junkie, finale time is always super depressing for me. The regular TV season is very comforting to me, and may be the only aspect of my life that I actually enjoy planning. Even though my school, work, social and family lives are unpredictable and difficult, I could always count on watching Survivor on Thursdays at 7; or on Wednesdays when they had to move it around due to "March Madness" or some other horseshit. On Tuesday evenings when I had class, I had to remember to remind Dan to tape Amazing Race. And Wednesday evenings, with the Lost-Alias combo, had become a reliable and comfortable--yet incredibly suspenseful-- way for me to spend an evening. So now, with all my regular shows having concluded over the past few weeks, I'm entering the typical end-of-season depression I'm prone to. I imagine it will gradually get better, as is usually the case, as I find other shows to bide my time. CBS will be doing another season of Big Brother here soon (another one of my perennially trashy faves), and there's always fare on cable that I enjoy (Dog the Bounty Hunter, Airline, Mythbusters, Animal Cops, Wonder Showzen, South Park, etc.). But it's really just not the same. Summer just isn't long enough to create that lulling regularity that you get from a regular TV season. The networks don't even run reruns IN ORDER, which totally sucks. I try to tell myself it's a good thing-- I could read a book or get some schoolwork done, or spend more time at the movies. But I'm pretty damn tired of schoolwork at this point, and my moviegoing habits are nothing short of rabid devotion already. So I'm left to pine for Fall, and new TV shows. And these are the shows I'll miss the most:

1. ALIAS
I'm kind of a later-comer to ALIAS, and I feel like a fool because of it. I remember when the show first started in 2001, I wasn't really watching much TV. It was a few weeks after the whole 9/11 event, and my head just wasn't in the right place for watching much of anything aside from news. Getting entangled into the fine plotlines of a new serial spy thriller just didn't appeal to me then. I sort of paid attention to Alias here and there, and caught a few episodes when I thought of it. Every time I did, I thought "Wow, this show is really cool. Wish I understood what they were talking about." I finally started watching regularly in season 3, figuring I'd pick it up. I've found season 4 has made sense overall to me, but I figured I'd have a better grasp if I just rented the first two seasons. I thought about doing it all year, but my school schedule was making the prospect seem unlikely. Because when I rent tv shows on DVD, I generally end up doing NOTHING ELSE other than watching said tv show. It's like crack for a tv lover's soul-- an ENTIRE SEASON of a show, just sitting there enticing you to watch just one more episode. Cliffhangers? No prob--just pop in the next disk!! I finally made good on renting Alias once my spring semester ended earlier this month. I went ahead and got the whole first season, since it was only 22 episodes. I had 5 days, but I had them finished by the end of the weekend. Dan returned those for me and got me Season 2's first and second disks. The next few were checked out by someone else, so I'm kind of in Alias limbo right now. But at least I had the season 4 finale to tide me over this week!
So yeah....the Alias finale ruled! Especially the final scene in the car: "My name's not really Michael Vaughn." BAM. What the hell?! It raises a lot of questions, and since I'm really fresh off season 1, I'm in total goofy speculation mode. I'm glad they managed to bring Lena Olin on board, too, at least for the finale.

2. LOST
I was a little doubtful of this modern day Gilligan's Island at first, but became hooked pretty quickly. I'm actually glad that the show hasn't pandered to the audience too much, and has left more questions open rather than answering them. It makes it all a little high-concept, which I'm willing to live with, because it seems there are too few shows out there willing to be this balls-out about unsolved eerie mysteries. It all speaks to one of my big fears in life, being LOST. I have a SERIOUS map addiction, and I'm not trying to be funny here. Whenever I'm traveling somewhere, I have to have a map close at hand to trace the routes, learn place and geographic names, and just to orient myself spatially. Without a map I get panicky, and get that awful, awful feeling of being lost. The idea of being not only in a plane crash (one of my huge fears), and with no idea of where you are is simply terrifying.
Lost has totally permeated into even my subconsciousness, as I recently had a pretty scary dream about being one of the castaways. "The Others" attacked me and stole some of my real-life work materials--some reel-to-reel tapes I'm digitizing. For some reason this caused a real breakdown for me. Maybe that's just my subconscious worrying about work manifesting itself in a creative way, but I dunno. I woke up all panicked and freaked out. Oh yeah, and Locke taught me how to throw daggers and stuff.
Season 2 will have a lot of questions to grapple with, if not answer, and I'm sure there are more strange surprises on the way. Now that the hatch has been physically opened, someone will be climbing down there in the season debut. We'll definitely get more on who the "Others" are, as the show will probably follow Walt on his own, at least a little bit. Are the "Others" supernatural pirates? Was Rousseau's kid on the boat? What about the numbers? How are the dudes from the raft going to survive? And here's a question I haven't seen a single news article speculate on: Are there any other survivors from flight 815? Jack's flashback from the airport with fellow flight passenger (from the rear of the plane) Michelle Rodriguez seems to indicate the possibility, especially considering articles noting that she will be "joining the cast" this fall.
All in all, I thought it was an excellent finale, it laid out some good groundwork for the future, and it gives us plenty to speculate on for the summer. Others are more grumpy and disagree, but I think they're just being trigger-happy.

3. THE AMAZING RACE
This has been my favorite show since it's debut a few years ago, but I'm ranking it at number three perhaps because I am suspicious that this fall's "Family Amazing Race" is probably going to not be as good as regular ol' Amazing Race. Leave it to the geniuses at CBS to screw up a perfectly AWESOME show. I'm convinced that someone in the upper levels at CBS really hates this show, or Phil Keoghan (I dunno why, cuz he rules!), because it seems like there have been waaay too many attempts to sideline this show along the way. Jerkfaces.

4. DESPERATE HOUSEWIVES
I'd read a bit about the show before it started and thought it was intriguing enough to give a try. I don't know much about Housewifery, except what I've learned from the movies and 1950s sitcoms. I find the show pretty entertaining, and love the whole what-looks-perfect-really-isn't factor, but would it kill ABC to not air promos that give away vital show information? That's why I watch the show, ABC, I don't need you to tempt me with the most vital tidbits ahead of time!
I hope there are some new characters to shake things up a bit in the next season. I'm already tiring of Susan and her shrill tones and sunken-in cheek-bones.


5. SURVIVOR
I can't miss my Survivor. A lot of people cut out after watching a few seasons, but I've been devoted to Survivor since the beginning. The show is in danger of becoming a tad stale, but they've done a pretty good job the past few seasons of trying to mix things up a little without totally wrecking the true essence of the show. I'm still waiting for a true Celebrity Survivor. And I want like Christopher Walken, Robert Duvall, Jennifer Lopez, and Cameron Diaz insead of the people they got for "I'm a Celebrity...Get Me Out of Here!"


6. AMERICA'S NEXT TOP MODEL
I hate models, but this show RULES! It's hard to explain to people why its worth giving a chance; the weird challenges the girls have to do, the bitchy exchanges between contestants, the bulimia charges, or just watching that hideous malformed gorgon, Janice Dickinson. Modeling is hard!


7. ER
I've been watching ER all along, and missed maybe 2 seasons along the way. I'm interested in the characters, but repelled by the blood and medical procedures. It's tough!

8. THE APPRENTICE
I hate business and Donald Trump but I watch The Apprentice! I guess what I'm struck by every week the most, is the ludicrous nature of the challenges. I don't have an MBA or JD, but I think I could match wits and ideas with these people just fine. Would they let someone with an MLIS (master's of library science) in the mix? Probably not, because then someone would have to explain to Donald Trump, and the general TV audience that there is such a degree, and why it is needed, what it involves, etc. I don't want to work for "the Don", but it would be cool to win the Apprenticeship job and say, "You know, I think I'm going to turn down your offer and work at the Library of Congress. So suck it."

9. THE BACHELOR
Yes, I know this show is bad. Really bad. It's ultra-formulaic, even with all the crazy "twists" they thought they were throwing in this season. Every new Bachelor gets worse in terms of an undefinable "douchebag factor". Charlie "Now we're cookin'...with gas!" O'Connell was excruciating to watch in many ways, and not just because of his accent, or limited vocabulary. This guy is the epitome of the one-liner bachelor, the "what's your sign?" dude. And what was the point of choosing someone extremely-marginally "famous"? If that was ABC's real desire, I think they could have found someone uhhh, a little more well known. They found people for Celebrity Mole, didn't they? Although now that I think of it, a lot of those folks weren't exactly too high on the ol' celebrity ladder either....
I don't think I've ever really liked any of the Bachelors; ABC tends to choose these smug, self-important dullards who don't have much to offer besides (slightly) deep pockets. I didn't like any of the Bachelorettes either, except for Meredith, although that show seems to make for more compelling TV overall because it reverses the power structure a bit. I hate normal people, the way they cling to goofy antiquated ideals about what romance is and what marriage has to be, and weddings in general. So you think this show would be the last thing I'd want to watch. And it is in some ways, but I guess I keep watching for the train-wreck factor. I can't stand all those things, yet I'm impelled to watch, and yell at my TV when the boobs on it meet my low expectations. And really, isn't that what reality TV is all about, making ourselves feel all awesome and stuff?

Tuesday, May 24, 2005

Bob Dylan and the Spirit of Wrestling

The main reason I post about wrestling so often on this blog is the obvious one: I genuinely, unironically love the professional wrestling. Its the only sport (alright, "sport") I've ever been able to follow with any real interest and for any prolonged period of time. It delivers all that "real" sports promise, such as drama, personality and, most of all, violence. I've never been able to fathom what it is that compells people to pay attention to any sport if not the possibility of a random, horrific injury. Isn't football haunted by the spectre of Joe Theismann? Aren't basketball fans secretly hoping for another "punch"? Don't even get me started on NASCAR.

And just so you don't think I'm a complete ghoul, the "drama" and "personality" I alluded to are every bit as important. How can any football fan pretend to distinguish between, let alone care about, a gang of 'roided-out delinquients made visually interchangable by acres of helmets, padding and protective gear? Team sports in general leave me cold anyway; deep down, I'm just not much of a joiner. If I'm going to let myself get swept away by some sporting event, its because I've bet all my emotional chips on one particular human. That being the case, what "legit" sports do I have to choose from? Boxing? No thanks - too arriviste, too mafia, too Trump.

So I'm left with pro wrestling (or, if I'm desperate, UFC-type brawls, which, I'll admit, is the next best thing). If I was writing a loooooong essay concerned only with the virtues of wrestling, this is where I'd drag out the Roland Barthes quotes. But! I've got bigger fish to fry! I've got to go from the squared circle to Bob Dylan and back again! And I gotta be at work tomorrow! So: for now, all you get is the a demonstration of the link between pro wrestling and great rock 'n' roll, Bob Dylan edition.

Richard Meltzer's notes for the Dictators' Fuck 'Em If They Can't Take a Joke LP (available now as a CD called New York, New York), "The Spirit of Wrestling", spells out the relationship between r'n'r and the One Good Sport more explicitly than anything before or since. It asks a question - what was so great about the Dictators? - and posits an answer - they had the spirit of wrestling!

"The Dictators knew what was missing and in their infinite generosity eventually they told us: THE SPIRIT OF WRESTLING. Elvis had it. Little Richard had it. God knows Jerry Lee had it. I mean shit, in those days teevee was an educational experience. Wrestling was on eleven days a week so it hadda osmose. The stoopid, bombastic grandeur of it all! Heppest showcase of wild 'n' krazy licks in the annals thereof! Sure it's fixed but so's chord progression!

"...Always two steps ahead of the pack, they also realized that in the world of goodguys and badguys it was the designated bad-asses who had all the great holds, all the creative dynamics of scattergun you-name-it, all the everlovin' PERSONA. Freddie Blassie, Killer Kowalski, Stan 'The Man' Stasiak - these were the 'Tators' touchstones of the great big buzz in the sky.

"...[T]hese inspired assholes of derring-do became the most fearsome five-man tagteam ever to venture 'tween the ropes, and certainly the first R&R combo to fully acknowledge the ropes that can't help but separate bands from, uh, paying customers. By early '74...the Dictators had already finely tuned an attitude of CONFRONTATION W/AN AUDIENCE that's still gotta be an all-time landmark of the genre. So intimidating was their presence that even when they were merely in the audience themselves they tended to catalyze this & that..."


Any readers sufficiently up on their Dylanology will be able to find examples for all of this. I mean, hello, "wild 'n' krazy licks?" "Great holds?" "Creative dynamics of etc.?" "PERSONA?" "CONFRONTATION WITH AN AUDIENCE?"

Okay, maybe. But did he really have the "spirit of wrestling?" Did he ever consciously seek out the approval of the great gods of the squared circle? I mean, okay, he probably saw his fair share of AWA matches on TV (he was from Duluth after all...), but he certainly didn't find any kind of aesthetic model or performative influence in the antics of Nick Bockwinkel or Otto Wanz or...or...hell, even Gorgeous George, did he? Did he?!?!?!???

From Chronicles, Volume One, pgs. 43-44.

"...There was a lot of halting and waiting, little acknowledgment, little affirmation, but sometimes all it takes is a wink or a nod from some unexpected place to vary the tedium of a baffling existence.

"This happened to me when Gorgeous George the great wrestler came to my hometown. In the mid-'50s I was performing in the lobby of the National Guard Armory, the Veterans Memorial Building, the site where all the big shows happened - the livestock shows and hockey games, circuses and boxing shows, traveling preacher revivals, country-and-western jamborees. I'd seen Slim Whitman, Hank Snow, Webb Pierce and a lot of others there. Once a year or so, Gorgeous George would bring his whole troupe of performers to town: Goliath, The Vampire, The Twister, The Strangler, The Bone Crusher, The Holy Terror, midget wrestlers, a couple of lady wrestlers, and a whole lot more. I was playing on a makeshift platform in the lobby of the building with the usual wild activity of people milling about, and no one was paying much attention. Suddenly, the doors burst open and in came Gorgeous George himself. He roared in like the storm, didn't go through the backstage area, he came right through the lobby of the building and he seemed like forty men. It was Gorgeous George, in all his magnificent glory with all the lightning and vitality you'd expect. He had valets and was surrounded by women carrying roses, wore a majestic fur-lined gold cape and his long blond curls were flowing. He brushed by the makeshift stage and glanced towards the sound of the music. He didn't break stride, but he looked at me, eyes flashing with moonshine. He winked and seemed to mouth the phrase 'You're making it come alive.'

"Whether he really said it or not, it didn't matter. It's what I thought I head him say that mattered, and I never forgot it. It was all the recognition and encouragement I would need for years to come. Sometimes that's all it takes, the kind of recognition that comes when you're doing the right thing for the thing's sake and you're on to something - it's just that nobody recognizes it yet. Gorgeous George. A mighty spirit. People said that he was as great as his race. Maybe he was. Inevitably, I would soon lose the band that was playing with me in the lobby of the Veterans building. Someone else had seen them and took them. I'd have to work on my connections. It was beginning to dawn on me that I would have to learn how to play and sing by myself and not depend on a band until the time I could afford to pay and keep one. Connections and credentials would have to become an irrelevancy, but I did feel good for a moment. Crossing paths with Gorgeous George was really something."


Happy birthday, Bob.

Happy Birthday Bob Dylan

Mr. Maximum Utmost turns 64 today. Have an extra bowl of prunes on me, Bob. Here's my present - a bunch of Dylan-related links!

Norm Geras's Completely Objective and Scientific Ranking of Dylan Songs!

Truly, this will be the greatest musical tribute to Bob Dylan in the history of recorded sound!

The almighty archive of Dylan-related articles on rocksbackpages.com (which ya gotta pay for!)!

Nick Gillespie sez "Watch out for Dylanologists!"

Brian Doherty, another Reason contributor, reviews a buncha Dylan books!

David Yaffe writes for The Nation, not Reason, but he also reviews a buncha Dylan books!

Are you compatable with Bob Dylan? Is Charles Manson?

Which Dylan albums are good? Which are wretched? Which are right there? Robert Christgau knows!

What's the deal with Todd Haynes's upcoming Dylan movie?

What's the deal with Martin Scorsese's upcoming Dylan movie?

Finally, is Dylan just annoying?

"I'm DEEEEEEAD!"

RIP Thurl Ravenscroft, voice of Tony the Tiger, among many others.

This obit is the only one I've found that mentions that he also sang "You're a Mean One, Mr. Grinch."

"Thurl Ravenscroft" is also one hell of a cool sounding name.

Monday, May 23, 2005

An Honor Killing?

The Chicago Tribune says that Shaima Rezayee may have been killed by her brothers.

"The killing illustrates the struggle facing Afghanistan's post-Taliban culture. Many urban young people have started to wear jeans, listen to Indian pop music and dream of romance. But their conservative elders see such behavior as un-Islamic and Western.

"Women face a particularly tough time if their behavior is seen as too loose or their clothes are perceived as too tight. For a family, such behavior is often taken as an insult to honor. Most marriages are still arranged in Afghanistan, and even a casual chat between a man and a woman can create problems."

YOUR 2005 Next Top Model is...

Naima. I approve wholeheartedly. She’s like a cuter Poly Styrene; plus its always good to see a midwesterner make it big. I have no way of proving this, but waaaay back when this season...ahem, er, I mean “cycle” began I took one look at Naima and said “That’s her. That’s America’s Next Top Model.” Actually, I believe I told Stacey it was gonna be her or Lluvy (who was like the fifth to get kicked off the show), but I was still technically correct!

I’m still waiting for Yoanna to make her big splash, by the way...har har har har..."

Sunday, May 22, 2005

More About Eurovision

Here's some info about the Eurovision contest. This is from Jack Stevenson's essay "Eurovision: The Candy-Coated Song Factory", which you can find in the indispensible Bubblegum Music is the Naked Truth, edited by Kim Cooper and David Smay.

"Founded in 1956, this international songfest was a product of television when the young medium was idealistically seen as a tool that could unite diverse European cultures for an evening in the simple shared joy of music. And for all the crassness and kitsch Eurovision has come to epitomize 44 years later, this noble aim is still its main motivation - or so the official line would have it.

"Eurovision pits one act - vocalist, duo or group - from each of Europe's 23 countries in a night-long competition that culminates in a public phone-in vote in each contry. Each nation then casts its votes for other national acts, resulting in the emergence of a single winner with a single song.

"The voting has always been notoriously partisan, as enemies like Greece and Turkey never give each other a single vote, while East European neighbors tend to vote for each other, as do the Scandinavian countries, etc. Beyond that, the voting is unpredictable and erratic in the extreme, and that's one of Eurovision's joys.

"...

"In the capital city of the previous year's winner gather the bright hopefuls from across Europe to form a massed concentration of facially perfect Barbie dolls, photogenic jawbones and a raw maw of uncut charisma. Each contestant is hoping to ride one miraculously catchy tune to fame and fortune the way 'Waterloo' catapulted ABBA to stardom in 1974. This is considered by most to be the event's immaculate golden moment, and it endures as inspiration to countless entrants since, who dream that all this might lead to something more than a free vacation and lots of tabloid exposure back home.

"The acts have all just won their own national competitions and achieved some short-lived hope, hullabaloo and celebrity on the local level, previous to which most of them were total unknowns. And after their 15 minutes of fame, most will go back to their day jobs or go on to supply second-rate lounges and supper clubs with an endless glut of 'where are they now?' easy-listening acts.

"...

"Every Eurovision edition is full of surprises and absurd moments guaranteed by the wide cultural diversity of styles unknown in an assimilationist monoculture like America. Pop culture is, above all, local and untranslatable, and despite all the warm fuzzy talk about pan-European unity and brotherhood, Eurovision is really a celebration of nationalism, provincialism and parochialism. This tends to result in acts wildly popular in their own countries but totally inscrutable to anyone else. All those stunned silences at otherwise noisy parties might be described as the sound of a million jaws dropping..."


Stevenson seems to contradict himself on that last point when he surveys the 1999 contestants, among whom was "Germany's entry, the all-Turkish band, Surpriz, singing in Hebrew (!) [who] finished a dangerous third with 'Journey to Jerusalem.' Surely as it becomes easier for people and populations to travel, work and move to different parts of the continent, many of the "national, provincial and parochial" styles will pop up in weird places, undergo unexpected changes and transform other insular folk traditions (or is that pop traditions? I'm getting confused...). Add to that unprecidented emmigration from the middle east, central Asia and north Africa, the rise or drop in nationalist sentiment that the EU constitution debate may bring about and a hundred other things I don't even know about. How can you not be interested?

"a dozen or so Diet Cokes a day"

The economics of extreme soda consumption. I can relate.

BTW, Virginia, Pepsi tastes much better.

"The Woman Killed For Pop Music"

If there's still anyone out there who doubts the power that pop music has to literally change the world, well, I would suggest that they revise their thinking in the light of a rather ironic one-two punch of current events.

First was yesterday's announcement of the winner of the Eurovision contest, which I wrote about below. The other is the murder this week of Shaima Rezayee, a veejay for Tolo TV, the fledgling Afghani version of MTV. According to the Times of London, Ms. Rezayee was shot in her home, presumably by Islamic fundamentalists.

Yesterday's post about Eurovision was pretty much the usual semi-literate rambling that is par for the course here at AlcO-bEAt. Mostly I wanted to write about it because, as a fan of dopey bubblegum pop music, I feel a kind of international solidarity with the millions of European teens (and probably no small amount of parents'-basement-dwelling European men in their late twenties) for whom a beat, a little melody or a song written over a coffee break still can ignite a blast furnace in the brain - keep your LSD, I've got the Daphne & Celeste album!

But what's really cool about Eurovision - above and beyond the fact that it gave the world ABBA - is that it manages to bring all of the religious, cultural, linguistic and ethnic diversity that is rather arbitrarily called 'Europe' together under one big umbrella in a celebration of the most banal, most disposable and least useful product of the modern world (bridges geographic diversity, too - I never did understand the logic that counts Israel as a part of 'Europe' for the purposes of the Eurovision contest but, y'know, no harm, no foul). Not only that, but it acts as a sort of mediator between the International Style of bubblegum pop (which, like jokes about sudden, explosive diarrhea, seem to have pretty universal appeal) and more local, indigenous musical forms which would seem to have more narrowly national appeal (every article you read about this always describes how this-or-that country's entry is in some way influenced by some kind of weird native folk tradition). This is what pop music (and pop culture more generally) does: by virtue of its near universal appeal, its ubiquity and its cheapness (in every sense of the term) it inflames imaginations (and desires) all over the world, allowing people to transcend stultifying local traditions and become a part of the Great Big World Out There. All that is solid melts into air, all that is holy is profaned, yadda yadda yadda.

I don't wanna get too Tom Friedman about this - although its a worthy end in itself, unlimited circulation of products is not going to make the world a perfect place. And pop culture isn't always an unstoppable difference-leveller; even my beloved Eurovision was wracked by political anxiety this year:

"Ukraine's entry, Greenjolly's Razom Nas Bahato,' or Together We Are Many, a politically charged anthem from last year's Orange Revolution, did not go down smoothly with its eastern neighbors. Greenjolly earned a stingy two points from Russia and none from Belarus -- a big change from last year, when Russia gave Eurovision winner, Ukraine's Ruslana, 12 points, and Ukraine gave Russia 10 points -- on a night when many countries reaped the rewards of local allegiances."

But that doesn't diminish the ability of pop fans to act as the shock troops of the modern world - the real avant-garde.

Literally. "Police said that they believed the killing was linked to her former job as a 'veejay' — video journalist — on Hop, which was broadcast by Tolo TV, one of a number of private stations set up since the fall of the Taleban.

"Ms Rezayee was the only female presenter on the show, which won as many young urban fans as it did enemies among the mullahs. Her murder raises the stakes in the battle for the soul of Afghanistan’s young people."


The whole "pop-music-as-social-movement" does have the slight whiff of baby-boomer self-regard to it, which, I admit, doesn't sit well with me. You typically hear this kind of thing from some graying dope in between bong hits: "Beatles, Stones and Dylan - they changed the world, maaaaaaaaaaan." Yeah, maybe (but probably not in the way these ninnies (okay, straw men) think - Vaclav Havel was a big Velvet Underground fan, and we should never forget The Plastic People of the Universe). But did any of them risk their lives for their music?

Then again, none of them ever crossed the Religion of Peace. "Tolo quickly became the most watched station in the city with a reported 81 per cent audience share and Hop was its No 1 programme. But it drew the ire of the country’s mullahs and members of the Supreme Court, who were still incensed after losing a battle last year to have women removed from the nation’s television screens.

"In March the national Ulema Council, a government panel of religious scholars, issued a statement accusing the station of 'broadcasting music, naked dance and foreign films, which are against Islam and other national values of Afghanistan'. Hop was at the top of their hitlist.

"The information ministry asked the station to tone down the show, objecting specifically to the raciness of the pop videos and the 'casual' chat between male and female presenters. In Afghanistan even conversation between men and women who are not related is regarded as suspect.

"S.A.H. Sancharaky, the Deputy Minister for Information and Culture, told a foreign interviewer that the Government prided itself on not censoring the show but was compelled to ask for changes. One particularly offensive incident, he noted, was when a male presenter had complimented Ms Rezayee on her shoes. 'He says, "Can you hold up your legs so everybody can see how good your shoes are?"' the official recalled. '"Hold up your legs" has a very bad meaning in our language.'"

"It was to be Ms Rezayee and not the male presenter who would pay for this exchange."

Saturday, May 21, 2005

YOUR 2005 Eurovision Champion...

...is Helena from Greece, for "My Number One." Congratulations to the winner, although it must be remembered that everyone's a winner at the Eurovision Song Contest.

Information of any kind about the Eurovision contest can be pretty difficult to come by if, like me, you happen to live in North America. This is too bad, 'cause I absolutely love the idea - one of the nifty things about Europe is all the weird little competitions they've invented for all the states to participate in (Eurovision, all those goofy soccer tournaments, etc.) (This is one area where the U.S. is embarrassingly backward. We simply don't have an analogue for these kinds of things. Sure, you've got your Superbowls and World Series and so forth, but that's not truly geographically representative; I always wondered what football team you're supposed to root for if you live in Wyoming, or South Dakota, or Alabama. And anyway, most sports bore me to tears - where's the AmeriVision Song Contest? And, no, American Idol does not cut the mustard...). I imagine that, as the world becomes more economically integrated, it will become culturally moreso as well, and finding out about the Eurovision contest will be no more difficult than finding out about the World Cup. But I'm not interested in waiting maybe 15 years for this, I want to be able to tape Eurovision 2006 and I want to know what to set my VCR for now. Europe used to simply have religious wars, ideological conflicts, contests for territory and natural resources or rivalries between petty tyrants or statesmen; now they settle their differences through the understated majesty of three-minute, disposable pop songs. This is one reason why, as the upper left-hand corner of your screen will tell you, we love the modern world.


UPDATE: Holy crap. Send money now.

The Booze-Soaked Trotskyite vs. Wide Boy

George Galloway's recent appearance in D.C. has, as far as I can see, had two consequences of interest.

1) It's given soft-headed so-called "progressives" in the US yet another opportuity to publicly embarrass themselves. Dr. Frank, as usual, has the scoop on this.

2) It's given Christopher Hitchens someone to kick around for a few weeks. Hitchens apparently paid a visit to Galloway while the latter was on his way to testify. The Scotsman records the friendly meeting:

"After a breakfast cigar, the MP approached the senate building today surrounded by a throng of cameras, vowing to use the opportunity to show the world who were the real villains of the piece.

'I intend to be the accuser rather than the accused, and I will putting them on trial,' he declared.

A brief ruckus with British journalist and sworn enemy Christopher Hitchens got proceedings off to a swinging start.

'Booze soaked Trotskyites,' Mr Galloway muttered as he took his seat, arms crossed. 'Wide boy,' Hitchens shot back.


And we're off! This and this seem like warm-up rounds; this one is the real main event.

Friday, May 20, 2005

You Can't Spell 'Sith' Without an 'S', 'H', 'I' and 'T'.

(I blatantly stole that gag from the fellows at Reason, just so ya know)

Every once in a while, my job will require me to process and deliver the daily mail to the Wisconsin State Senate. It's kind of a repetitive task, but not so bad as all that: I can lose myself in the mechanical letter-sorting process, and I get a little quiet time alone to think things over, which is always nice. Since every senator gets a copy of every newspaper that's published in their district, I get to look these over before I deliver them and see what's going on in the cities, towns and unincorporated hamlets of the great state of Wisconsin (short answer: not much).

Can you guess which story is splashed all over the front page of every Wisconsin newspaper? Yup, the big Star Wars premiere. Not exactly what I'd consider breaking news (and I'm as big a Star Wars nerd as you're likely to run across), but fair enough: like I said, there ain't exactly a lot of competition for column inches for most of these publications. What was weird, though, was the fact that almost every one of these papers ran a picture of some bunch of goons dressed up in this or that type of Star Wars paraphanillia engaged in pitched light-saber battles in front of the movie theater. Every one! There were light saber battles in Wisconsin Rapids, in Kenosha, in Richland Center, in Oshkosh, in Rice Lake, everywhere! Now I'm all for fan participation, and although I poke fun at the guys who dress up like Vulcans or Imperial Stormstroopers or whatever else, I do so out of love - I'm into all that shit too, and although I don't like to fly my nerd flag at full staff all the time (inasmuch as I have control over how nerdy I seem in public), I respect those who do. That said, the fact that light-saber duels seem to have become the Official Nerd Activity for those who wish to kill time while waiting in the cue seems to take away from the spontaneity, no?

Anyway, here's an article from my home town paper: "'Star Wars' Gave Hmong Kids Hope." I gotta give 'em credit, this is a vaugely interesting twist on the 'dedicated Star Wars fan profile' that every news source has had to dust off for this week.

Thursday, May 19, 2005

"This will make you question how a loving God can allow such depravity!" Or whatever.

I guess this is the 21st century equivalent to that bit in The Jerk in which the secret cat-juggling ring is exposed.

(via, heaven help me, The Corner)

alco-BEAT

This is a really cool idea, although it needs to work a heck of a lot faster in order to hold my attention for more than four minutes. Call me when I can play along to "Cretin Hop."

(via Norm)

Wednesday, May 18, 2005

Beware the Apolitical Buttfucking Gremlin!

Not sure if this is worse than the Face Fucking Bat Sperm, but here ya go.

(via the God Damn Fucking Death Valley Driver Video Review Message Board)

Return of the WIMPYS

Hi, all. Who here likes the professional wrestling?

Here's a thread on the almighty Death Valley Driver message board lamenting the lack of squash matches in wrestling today. Although squash matches don't happen very often anymore, they're still an active part of the non-fan's cliched notion of what wrestling is like. A squash match is what you get when you pit a "name" wrestler (an up-and-coming star, a fan favorite gone bad, an old veteren, even a "marquee" guy who would normally be in the main event) against and anonymous curtain-jerker (some guy you've never seen and never will again). These usually lasted about five or ten minutes and more or less consisted of the "name" guy demolishing the other guy - hip, with-it online 'rasslin fans typically call these guys "jobbers", but one of the guys on the Playaz' board refers to 'em as "wimpys", which I like much better.

Anyway, for a variety of reasons, these kind of matches don't happen as often as they used to; now its usually one "superstar vs. superstar" match after another. Sounds like a vast improvement, right? Not necessarily. Like they say, read the whole thing.

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